


good grief

by liesmith



Series: stray (fake chop) [1]
Category: Cow Chop
Genre: Fake Chop, Gen, avert ye eyes this is a mess i promise u, but only where brett's a weirdo who bothers aleks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-24
Updated: 2017-06-24
Packaged: 2018-11-18 09:48:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11288748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liesmith/pseuds/liesmith
Summary: there's a feral cat and aleks isn't looking for straysorbrett's weird and aleks kind of hates him





	good grief

Aleks has only heard his name in passing, and he, very possibly, may hate Brett.

He’s only seen him here and there, bat slung over his shoulder and head cocked, watching from an outsider’s perspective. He only seems to turn up when Aleks is alone turning tricks or busting in heads, and it… mildly creeps Aleks out. He’s a big man; if he wanted too, Aleks could be dead in nanoseconds.

But, instead, he just watches, and it sets every inch of Aleks’ nerves on some sort of haywire distress. Part of him wants to confront the man, but that would mean possibly getting himself killed, and like… that’s not really in the cards right now. He kind of _likes_ doing this, for all the shitty grey morals he carries, and being dead complicates a lot of that.

So he just deals with Brett hovering around, like some feral cat that wants attention but doesn’t know how to ask, slinking in shadows and getting a little too close for comfort sometimes.

So, yeah, the night Aleks gets a little too drunk, picks a fight with the wrong guy at the bar, and ends up slumped in an alleyway with a bloody nose and a split lip, he’s pretty ok with Brett lurking around. He’s too out of it to really pay attention, but the sounds are pretty bad, and Brett’s holding out a hand that’s bloody when he comes over, and Aleks just shrugs, takes it and stands, swaying slightly on his feet.

“You look like shit.”

That’s not really the voice he expects, so Aleks kind of laughs, awkwardly spitting blood that makes Brett grimace, let go of his hand, and step a couple inches back, holding his bat in front of him like protection.

“The hell you laughin’ at?”

“I’m drunk,” Aleks decides instead, wiping his face on his sleeve. Some of the blood’s dry and flakey and comes off on it and he frowns. That’s fuckin’ gross, “shit… what happened?”

“You got your ass handed to you in a handbasket and I took care of the rest. You need a ride home?”

“Uh, sure?” This is a lot, and Aleks scrubs a aching hand through his hair, “sure. Ride home.”

Brett’s quiet as he slides an arm around Aleks’ waist, steadies him, and starts guiding him towards the front of the alley. Out there sits a bike on its kickstand, and Aleks feels a little woozy at the idea of riding on it. The alcohol and ass kicking are mixing to create a hurricane of bad, and he shakes his head quickly.

“No way.”

“No way what?”

“I’ll puke if I go on that thing.”

“Hell,” Brett sighs in such a way that Aleks knows he is very much inconveniencing him, like he asked this feral dumbass cat to come save him, but it feels… kind of nice to be someone’s burden. Being taken care of was… kind of dope. He’s too busy in his own thoughts of being pampered that he doesn’t even notice Brett’s pulled away from him and has steadied the bat, and -

When Aleks wakes up, he does puke. At least he’s in a bathroom, with lights way too harsh, and Brett’s perched on the sink and grimacing the whole time.

“You really… god, that is _gross_ ,” Brett complains, scooting a bit away from Aleks, who only lifts his head and tries a glare, but the lights hurt too much and he has to duck his head back down. When he manages to lift it again, the lights are off except for the dull glow of Brett’s phone’s screen on the sink, illuminating the bathroom just barely.

“Did… did you fuckin’ knock me out, dude?”

“Yeah. I had to get you here somehow. It’s too far a walk,” Brett speaks like it’s totally normal to go knocking people he’s helped out out, and Aleks just rests his forehead on his arm, trying to keep what’s left in his stomach in there, “anyways, you’re fine now. Once you’re done puking your brains out, I’ll try to bandage you up.”

“Fuck off.”

“That’s not nice,” Brett monotones, crossing his legs at the ankle and picking his phone up, beginning to scroll through something on it, “you’re supposed to be nice to people who help you.”

“Feral… motherfuckin’... cat,” Aleks manages, mind too sluggish and dizzy to come up with something coherent, “slinking around, like… fuck…”

He can’t see it, but he knows Brett’s rolling his eyes. Gut feeling. After what feels like hours, he manages to stand, whole body shaking. Brett sets his phone screen side up for the light, and holds out a hand.

“Let me see your knuckles.”

Aleks wants to look mad, but he knows the look he gives Brett just says pathetic, so he holds out his hands and Brett takes them both, wasting no time in cleaning and bandaging his left hand tightly, and cleaning his right. Makes Aleks wince, want to pull back like a kid and complain, but he knows it’ll just make things worse. Brett has no problem busting his head open, so clearly he has no problem doing anything else.

“You look like shit, Aleksandr.”

“Yeah, thanks. Probably wouldn’t look so bad if you didn’t fucking _hit_ me, man.”

“That hardly did any damage,” Brett shrugs and hops off the counter, pocketing his phone in his coat and stepping out of the bathroom, leaning against the wall outside, “brush your teeth.”

Aleks looks a little dumbfounded, but when he looks at the sink with light seeping in from outside, he sees the packaged one-use toothbrush. Fuck, Brett’s weird. He does as he’s told though, even if the idea of doing it makes him retch, but he only gags once and considers it a win as he throws the toothbrush away and spits down the sink. He leans in the bathroom doorway, head pounding just slightly less, and Brett doesn’t even look at him when he gestures towards the bed.

“Go sleep, dipshit.”

“Why the hell are you… doing any of this?”

Brett looks up, tilts his head, and then shrugs. “I dunno. I like you, your style. You’re an idiot, though. No discipline. That’s why you get your ass beat at a bar ‘cuz you had too many rum and cokes. Go sleep.”

“That didn’t answer my question at all,” Aleks is still moving though, the bed suddenly all too inviting and warm. Just manages to pull his ruined shirt up and over his head, sunglasses hooked onto the front clattering to the ground with it, and slides into the bed. Smells like Brett; Aleks tries not to think too hard on that.

“We can talk in the morning when you’re a little more coherent,” Brett’s tone is supposed to sound like a promise, but Aleks knows better. Closes his eyes, curls a little, and covers his head with his arms.

Keeping a feral cat around was probably bad luck, like walking under ladders and smashed mirrors, but when he woke in the morning to a note, bagels, and a bottle of aspirin, Aleks decided that was just fine.

**Author's Note:**

> fun idea: brett is not part of fake chop at all and is a weird feral cat that aleks takes home one day and everyones like Gross.
> 
> also keep... letting me live my life. i'll make all the brett/aleks content one sleepless night at a time


End file.
